


Vogue

by DoctorTrekLock



Series: Resolution19 [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Dean in a Skirt, M/M, cross-dressing, established Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorTrekLock/pseuds/DoctorTrekLock
Summary: "Stop that," Cas said, swatting Dean's hands out of the way. "The skirt is short on purpose.""Onpurpose?" Dean exclaimed. "You mean women dress like this because they want to?" He tried in vain to pull the hem down further, but to no avail."I don't know about that," Cas said thoughtfully. "The gender politics of women's clothing can be a very complicated topic, but I believe the women themselves were not consulted about Western standards of beauty."





	Vogue

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “The skirt is short on purpose.”  
> Source: <https://doctortreklock.tumblr.com/post/116874040997/ridiculous-sentence-prompts>
> 
> Originally posted May 8, 2019 on [Tumblr](https://doctortreklock.tumblr.com/post/184747532577/vogue-may-8-2019)

"Stop that," Cas said, swatting Dean's hands out of the way. "The skirt is short on purpose."

"On _purpose_?" Dean exclaimed. "You mean women dress like this because they want to?" He tried in vain to pull the hem down further, but to no avail.

"I don't know about that," Cas said thoughtfully. "The gender politics of women's clothing can be a very complicated topic, but I believe the women themselves were not consulted about Western standards of beauty."

Dean shot an incredulous look at his boyfriend, but stopped tugging at his skirt, instead trying to balance a large, heavy handbag on one shoulder while wobbling dangerously in four inch heels. "Standards of beauty, my ass," he snapped. "I don't see you walking around in this get-up. Why couldn't Sam do it?" he added as his brother opened the door to the motel room the men were sharing.

Sam burst into laughter when he saw Dean and was shaking so hard he struggled to close the door behind him.

"Shut up," Dean snarled. An attempt to turn further toward his brother left Dean off-balance, and he had to pinwheel his arms slightly to keep from falling over before Cas steadied him.

Sam laughed harder and had to lean against the door to keep himself upright.

"As you professed an interest in 'exploring the watering holes' around the motel last night, you were unavailable this morning to visit the coroner's office or question witnesses," Cas informed him, complete with air quotes. "Elias Hickory has met both Sam and I, so neither of us can 'go undercover' at the Crossed Swords, an establishment which specializes in serving alcohol to homosexual men, especially those that enjoy dressing in traditionally feminine clothing."

"Yeah, I got that," Dean said shortly, dropping the bag back on the bed, where it landed heavily and bounced slightly. "What did you put in here, Sam, rocks?" he asked, roughly rubbing his hand over the shoulder he'd been attempting to carry the bag on.

Sam's snickers trailed off and he straightened up, walking over to the bed. He opened the bag and showed its contents to Dean. "Just everything you might need to take out a rakshasa. Two brass knives, an angel blade, a first aid kit," he pointed to each item as he listed it, smirk steadily growing. "A second pair of heels, another tube of lipstick, three bottles of nail polish--"

Dean went to smack his brother hard on the back of the head, but Sam dodged out of the way. "--And a bottle of lube," he finished through a smile. "Just in case Hickory gets frisky." The last line was accompanied by an eyebrow waggle that made Sam look a decade younger.

Dean scowled and upended the bag across the bedspread. He put both knives and the angel blade back in, then tossed the bottle of lube to Cas, silently daring his brother to comment.

Sam pointedly ignored the implication, choosing instead to brandish one of the discarded lilac pumps at Dean. "You sure you don't need these?" he teased. "What if you break a heel?"

Dean threw the tube of lipstick at Sam and it rebounded off his forehead. "I'll take a cab," he snapped.

Bag now slightly lighter, Dean slung it back over his shoulder and turned to Cas with a sigh. "Best get this show on the road, I guess," he groused. "Before Samantha here gets any more ideas."

"After you, Deanna," Sam said with a grin and a sweeping gesture. "Wouldn't want to keep dear Hickory waiting."

As Dean stomped over to the door - as much as he could stomp, considering his footwear - he flipped Sam off. "Damn hippie," he muttered.

Sam's chortling followed him all the way out the door.


End file.
